


Gone By The Board

by spockandawe



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alcohol, Drunk Sex, M/M, Spin the Bottle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 15:23:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6381808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spockandawe/pseuds/spockandawe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lord Starscream, duly elected ruler of Cybertron, walks into a bar—not the start of a bad joke, just the start of you losing all your profits for the rest of the night. So that’s great. You’re not even the first one to get a clue! If you weren’t so busy being annoyed at the way your evening is going to go, you could spend your time being annoyed that you were so slow on the uptake instead. Waspinator was the first one out the back entrance, before you even realized something was up. Rattrap wasn’t far behind him, then and it’s only a few kliks from Starscream claiming a seat right at the bar to all your other patrons finishing up their drinks and dashing away to take care of that one thing—you know what they’re talking about, they just finished telling you, can’t stay, sorry, need to run—</p><p>                Aaaaaaand your bar is empty. Except for Starscream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gone By The Board

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kijikun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kijikun/gifts).



> [Tumblr](http://spockandawe.tumblr.com/post/141823126261/gone-by-the-board-spockandawe-the-transformers)

                Lord Starscream, duly elected ruler of Cybertron, walks into a bar—not the start of a bad joke, just the start of you losing all your profits for the rest of the night. So that’s great. You’re not even the first one to get a clue! If you weren’t so busy being annoyed at the way your evening is going to go, you could spend your time being annoyed that you were so slow on the uptake instead. Waspinator was the first one out the back entrance, before you even realized something was up. Rattrap wasn’t far behind him, then and it’s only a few kliks from Starscream claiming a seat right at the bar to all your other patrons finishing up their drinks and dashing away to take care of that one thing—you know what they’re talking about, they just finished telling you, can’t stay, sorry, need to run—

                Aaaaaaand your bar is empty. Except for Starscream. Agh, he’s even wearing his ridiculous crown and everything. Who does that? And profit margin, who wanted a profit margin? Though… your bar _is_ empty. There’s nobody here who’ll think it’s funny to call you out if you try to upsell engex to Lord Starscream, duly elected ruler of Cybertron, at ridiculously overblown prices. You start him up a tab—no trouble, no trouble at all, just doing your best for a valued patron! And because you have it on good authority that the duly elected ruler of Cybertron doesn’t handle his own duly elected finances, and you’re pretty sure Rattrap will be more than happy to approve these purchases for his boss.

                You barely get to even _start_ your spiel about the fancy offworld subpace filtration processes they’re using for this new batch of imported engex before Starscream cuts you off. “Oh, give it a rest and just bring me something good. Whatever’s the best you have.” He looks around the empty bar and sneers. “I’m feeling extravagant, why don’t I just buy a round for the entire house?”

                It doesn’t take much thinking to figure out what’s your _best_ engex. No no no, that part’s easy, the _real_ struggle is trying to figure out how much you can overcharge Lord Starscream, the blah, blah, et cetera, et cetera, before he realizes what you’re doing. And you know what, you’re pretty positive now that he’s just waiting for you to try to start talking, because as soon as you open your mouth, he cuts you off _again_ with, “I’ll take the whole bottle. And I don’t care how badly you want to rob me. Frankly, I’m the richest mech on this planet. Charge whatever it is you think qualifies as ‘expensive.’”

                Okay, fine, so now you’re annoyed _and_ off-balance—which definitely isn’t improving the annoyance situation—but really, right when you’re trying to say something about how you were definitely planning to close early tonight, that’s been the plan all along, he _interrupts you again_. But this time he kicks out the stool next to him and says, “Oh, just sit down already and enjoy your drink. I bought a round for the entire bar, _do_ try to keep pace.”

                You’re getting very, very tired of not keeping up and you’re maybe _probably_ (definitely) sulking a bit, so… fine. _Fine_. You put the bottle of engex and two glasses on the counter, then walk out from behind the bar to sit next to Starscream.

                Now, you’re not going to admit this to Starscream, _absolutely_ not, but it’s maybe kind of nice to just sit and enjoy a quick drink for a change. You don’t drink on the job—at least hardly ever—it’s a bad plan, or a great way to have an awful evening, whichever you like. And now you’ve got an excuse to break out the black label engex _and_ savor it _and_ drink it on someone else’s artificially inflated tab. It’s hard to get better than that. Okay, okay, so it would be better than that if you were drinking it with, you know. Anyone else. But that’s still a lot of positives outweighing that one negative.

                So it’s an awkward drink, possibly even the _most_ awkward drink, with the two of you not exactly looking at each other and _definitely_ not managing to do the conversation thing. It’s fine, it’s fine! The drink is still delicious, you really do forget how good it is to feel the buzz yourself when you spend all your time supplying the buzz to a neverending stream of customers. But! Even when you’re trying to relax and savor your drink, your version of slow really isn’t very slow at all, and the glass of engex disappears much too fast.

                You reluctantly push your empty glass back across the bar and brace yourself to stand up and go back to work… and Starscream kicks you in the ankle. “That’s all? I hadn’t thought you’d be one for giving up so easily.” And you aren’t following. _Again_. You’re really, _really_ getting tired of this. “I didn’t buy a glass, I bought the _bottle_.”

 _Fine_ , okay, alright, so you’re not keeping up in conversation? Starscream can see how well he keeps up with _you_. If you’re splitting the bottle, well, you don’t know what kind of history Starscream has, not really, but you? You’ve got millions of years of experience behind you as a very passionate engex enthusiast before you decided to make it into a career.

                It’s a race to the bottom of the bottle, then. Maybe not a _race-_ race, because you’re still drinking on Starscream’s tab and if he decides to take it back, yeah, that’s not going to go well. But it’s definitely a race, and it’s a race you’re going to _win_. And you know what, for the sake of winning? If it’s going to distract Starscream? Hey, you’re even willing to try making this whole conversation thing work.

                Halfway through your second drink, you try your hand at some good old anecdotal humor—gotta be a safe bet, right? And you know what, it’s the best plan, because it’s objectively _hilarious¸_ there was this one time during the war where you and Blaster were getting absolutely _smashed_ when his chronometer glitched and he thought he was late for a broadcast—you’d had too much engex to argue, who would know Blaster’s schedule better than Blaster—and the two of you had to scramble trying to set up all the equipment yourself, and you’d _just_ made it to broadcast, just in time (Blaster said), but he left you in charge of the transmission and to make a long story short, you broadcast half a cycle of Blaster trying to pretend he was sober (and _badly_ failing), only to Prowl’s personal hailing frequency.

                You don’t really know whether Starscream cares or not—honestly, you’re having a fantastic time remembering Blaster waking up from recharge after that and seeing the return message from Prowl and the two of you desperately digging through security records trying to find a copy of what you'd even sent to him—but the moment you slow down, he launches into a story of his own. He tells you about how one time Soundwave—yes, _that_ Soundwave, once he—

                It’s certainly a look into the Decepticon high command you’d never expected to have! And it’s so easy to sip your drink and listen while Starscream talks. You haven’t forgotten that this is a race, really, but by the time you get to the end of your glass, you’ve thought of at least five more hilarious stories where if you don’t tell them right this moment, you may actually, _literally_ die—It’s only a rumor, but you’ve heard from at least three ‘bots that they definitely saw Optimus Prime—or, even better, back in the day, there was once when you and Springer were sharing a bottle of home-brewed engex, tasted disgusting, but it was strong enough to peel the paint off your face, and then you—

                Starscream smugly tops you with a story about once when Megatron— yes _really_ — had too much engex and tried to fly off to attack the Autobot high command all by himself. You don’t know if you really believe him, it _is_ Starscream telling you about it, but you laugh yourself almost sick when he reenacts Megatron’s speech about how he can totally fire energy beams from his fingertips, no really, he can definitely do that now.

                You’re eyeing the almost-empty bottle a little unsteadily, because, you were going to win… something, weren’t you? You were close, you think. If you can remember what you were supposed to be doing. But before you can figure it out, Starscream snatches he bottle out of your hands and pours the last of the engex into his own glass. Before you have time to switch gears into outrage, he waves his hand grandly and orders another round of the same, for the _whole_ bar.

 _Everything_ is funny right now, so you almost fall off of your stool laughing. Though, to be fair, you almost fall over just standing up, _wow_. You don’t even feel that bad though, because, hahaha, Starscream is tilted so far over in his seat laughing at _you_ that you nudge him sideways so he’s propped on the bar, just to be safe.

                It takes you a few tries to grab the right bottle—your vision could probably be steadier but also you can’t stop laughing— and you stand, presenting the bottle with a flourish. “I, _Lord Starscream_ , have graciously decided to purchase, for my loyal subjects—”

                Starscream just about rolls off the bar laughing, and you only _just_ manage to catch him before he takes a dive. You’re actually pretty sure the only reason the two of you are still anything close to vertical is because when you’re leaning on each other, it’s much, much harder to actually tip over. Is starting another bottle a good idea when you’re already like this? Probably not, but _too bad_.

                It’s a little tricky trying to get into your seat again, because you’ve got one hand full of engex, one arm full of Starscream, and he's making everything ten times more difficult trying to fumble his crown onto your head. He takes the engex from you, which, _hey_ , you were about to use that—and laughs, “No, do it this way, trust me— _everything_ is better with the crown—”

                You stand up again, and brace yourself against his shoulder so you don’t fall over, whoops. You wave your other hand grandly, demanding silence from your audience. You don’t even make it to the first word before both of you crack up together.

                The two of you collapse into each other, laughing so hard you can’t even _think_ about talking. You manage to snag your stool with your foot and drag it over against his, and even climb up into it without you falling over and without _him_ falling over, which _definitely_ counts as a win. You do accidentally knock your elbow into the empty bottle of engex, which almost goes flying—aw, no, you do not want to be dealing with broken glass right now-- until Starscream just barely manages to catch it in one hand. You’re _just_ about able to take it from his hand and put it back on top of the bar, even if you don’t quite get it upright. It tips over, but it doesn’t fall, just sits there spinning and _oh man you have the best story about aliens_.

                See, the funny thing about being trapped on an alien planet for cycles and cycles and _cycles_ is that you were left with _so much_ dead time with nothing to do but watch humans. And humans are _weird_. Starscream knows some of what you’re talking about, but most of his time on earth he was either planning a war or fighting a war, nothing like what you had to deal with. So it takes a little bit to get to the point—you have to stop to explain that organics get drunk by letting their food go half rotten, no, _really—_ But then you get to the things that humans _do_ when they’re drunk.

                You have to explain spin the bottle three times before Starscream really follows what you’re saying (to be fair, you have had a _lot_ of engex, and that’s probably not helping the situation). But at least he pours you a drink while you’re telling him, “And then when you spin the bottle, the person the bottle points to, _that’s_ who you kiss.”

                He looks skeptical. You don’t think he really believes you, but no, that’s what you’re saying, just look at the weird things aliens do to pass the time, right? He asks, “…why don’t they kiss whoever they want?”

                You’re, ha. Kind of not sure, to be honest. Hey, you watched the organics do their organic thing, you never said you _understood_ them. “Maybe if you try it?”

                Starscream looks like he’s going to say no for a moment, and really, you don’t blame him, you don’t understand what the humans were trying to accomplish either. But he says, “So you take the bottle. And spin it.”

                You nod. And move the _full_ bottle of engex to a safer location.

                The bottle goes round and round… and ends up pointing back towards the empty bar. Ha, whoops. You suggest, “Try again?”

                The bottle ends up pointing _again_ at the empty bar. You put down your drink to put a hand over your mouth. Starscream is glaring at the bottle and looks unbelievably offended and everything is still too hilarious for words, but you’re not sure if he’d be all, you know, _Starscream_ about it if you laughed at him now.

                He spins the bottle, one more time, and it ends up pointing at… himself. You can’t help it, you crack up so hard it _hurts._ He turns the glare on you, and oh Primus, you’re going to regret this but you _can’t stop laughing_ — But his lips curl up into a slow smile and he braces on the edge of the bar.

                You should stop laughing, you really should, but he says, “I’ll spin _your_ bottle,” and that, haha, that, that isn’t even a thing that people _say_ , but he lunges for you and you kind of halfway get your hands up to stop him, but he catches you in the chest hard enough to knock you off your stool and down onto the floor. His crown goes flying, he has you pinned, and you should really, _really_ be more worried about getting Starscream angry at you, but you’re drunk and everything is ridiculous and how could he spin your bottle? That doesn’t even make sense!

                He still has the empty bottle in his hand. He raises it menacingly, and points it straight at your face. He pauses for dramatic effect, and declares, “ _Bottled you_.”

                You’re about to tell him that no, that’s not what you say either, but then he’s bending down, and _oh._ Your mouth is a little too busy for talking. The stupid drunk part of your brain is still arguing that no, that’s not how the game works, but the _other_ stupid drunk part of your brain (most of your brain is made of stupid drunk parts right now) is a little preoccupied with thinking about how awfully nice his lips feel against yours.

                Eventually, he braces against your shoulders and pushes back, just enough to separate your mouth from his. Just enough for you to see the way he _smirks_. He begins, “Now that I’ve defeated you in your human game—”

                “ _Wait,_ ” you blurt. “It’s, um. Not over yet.”

                “Really.”

                “Obviously!” Where are you going with this? You don’t have a single solitary clue, but hey, if it’s fast talking, it should be right up your alley. “Anybody would know that it’s not over until I get a chance to score a bottle on you.”

                “ _Really_."

                “ _Yes_ really—” You make a grab for the engex bottle, but he leans back just far enough to hold it out of reach. Which makes his weight shift in some _really_ interesting ways—does he realize where his aft is pressing or does he just not care? You’d really, really like some context for whether or not he’s doing any of this on purpose. And that smug look on his face while he’s got you pinned down, straddling your waist, that look _is not helping matters_.

                He holds the bottle out of your reach twice when you grab for it, until _finally_ he lets you snatch it away. You point it right at his stupid, smirking face and pronounce, “ _Bottled_.”

                “And what are you going to do about it?”

                You don’t bother trying to struggle upright while he’s got you pinned like this. You just pull him down to you instead.

                He makes a pleased noise against your mouth when you kiss him. He breaks away for a moment, holding himself just far enough away that he makes you stretch upwards to close the distance, but no _, nope_ , you’re done letting him get away with that kind of thing. You wrap your arms around his neck instead, dragging him down against you.

                Starscream doesn’t even bother to pretend he doesn’t know what he’s doing after that. He shifts from straddling your waist—you barely hold back a protest that you can’t feel his panel against your stomach, or his aft against _your_ panel—But then, nnh, yes, this was the best decision, because he pushes one of his thighs between your legs, presses his weight down _right_ there, right where it’s perfect—you couldn’t hold your panel shut right now if you tried. You can feel how smug Starscream’s smile is against your mouth, but hey, you can also feel him reaching back to open _his_ panel, and you think that’s worth a nice smug smile of your very own.

                The angle’s tricky. But also, you are very, _very_ drunk and this is about the limit of what your poor overclocked brain is capable of handling right now. Interface logistics? Nope, nope, you are not having with any of that nonsense right now. And besides, you’d have a tough time convincing yourself to let Starscream’s leg go where you have it between your thighs right now. You can’t do as much as you wish when he has you trapped, but you can work your hips down against him like this, and it’s, it’s not _enough_ , but you’re still not planning to _stop_ anytime soon. From the way Starscream is grinding down against your thigh, and the way you can feel his valve dripping against you, you think it’s reasonable to say he’s in a pretty similar position.

                So! You’re pinned, figuring this mess out is officially Starscream’s problem. You don’t know whether he wants your spike in his valve or the other way around, but you’re fine with it either way, as long as you don’t have to _actually_ make it work. Your legs are wrapped around his right now, and logic make suggest that untangling them would make things easier, but logic is having to shout past a _lot_ of engex, and all those stupid drunk parts of your brain are telling you how nice Starscream feels against you right now.

                As it happens, Starscream doesn’t try to get inside you, and he doesn’t try to get you inside him either. Honestly, that’s probably for the best. He’s about as drunk as you are, and also, maybe _possibly_ you’ve just discovered how sensitive he is where his wings meet his back. You can’t keep your hands off him, and the noises he’s making into your mouth sound increasingly distracted and desperate.

                He finally darts a hand between the two of you, going for his spike, and you’re all prepared to be offended that he’d leave you hanging like that—But before you can react, he takes your spike along with his, and strokes down both of them together. It’s your turn to make some noise now, you can’t help it, not with the slide of his spike against yours, his fingers against you, his leg still pressing up against your valve.

                Starscream is laughing against your mouth now, who even does that? You leave one hand on his wings, running your fingers along the trailing edge of one wing from base to tip—he shudders against you, you’re going to have to remember that reaction for later—But you shove your other hand down between you. Your spike _aches_ for more, you’re so close, you _need_ —

                Instead, you push your hand between Starscream’s legs. You get two fingers up his valve, and _ha_ , that does the trick. He pushes back from you, his mouth falling open as he shakes and overloads, spilling transfluid all over your stomach. His spike retracts, but to give him credit, he doesn’t let go of _your_ spike. He braces himself against your shoulder with one hand, resettles his fingers around you, and gives you one purposeful stroke. You just barely manage to bite back a helpless noise, but whatever he sees in your face, it makes him grin. All you can do is clutch desperately at his waist as he strokes you to completion, harder, _faster,_ until you arch off the floor against him, your fans pouring off heat, and overload.

                You feel almost betrayed when Starscream gets off you and steps away to the bar. You’re still having trouble making sense of your optics are seeing, you’d just like to lay here and recharge for a solar cycle or two, thanks. But—why’d he go? You’ve just about decided that yes, you’re… upset about this, when he comes back. He settles right down on your stomach again— sure, maybe you should have moved, okay, but who _does_ that—and sets the fresh bottle of engex down beside your head. And two glasses.

                He smirks down at you, as smug as ever, but see, here’s the thing, right you’re not sure that you actually _mind_. Still sitting on your stomach, he pours out two glasses of engex and says, “You may have held your own in a single game of bottles—but will you succeed again?”

                You laugh and prop yourself up on one elbow to accept your glass. “I’m going to spin your bottle so hard you won’t be able to _walk_ for a deca-cycle.”

                He grins down at you, his free hand braced against your chest and his fans still venting hot against you. He raises his glass of engex in a toast and takes a slow sip, never dropping his optics from yours, and finally purrs, “I accept your challenge.”


End file.
